Victory Sportswear might just be the most important new sneaker brand out there, but there’s actually nothing new about them. We had never heard of Victory until we spotted them at this year’s Capsule trade show, but we were immediately taken by the brand’s suede and mesh trainers which look like a cross between something Carl Lewis might’ve worn at the ’84 Olympics and a pair of sneakers you might find at an orthopedic store.

Truthfully though, it wasn’t the look of the shoes that got us excited, but rather the fact that they were made in America. The only other brand making shoes in America right now is New Balance, and just like them, Victory produces their sneakers in New England (NB in Maine, Victory in Massachusetts). In fact, Victory has made its entire collection in its Massachusetts factory since the company was founded in 1980′s. The question is, where has it been this whole time? And how are we not surprised that it was Daiki and the Engineered Garments team that has unearthed them for our collective pleasure.

“There’s no photos allowed, sir.” At first I’m insulted, and then I realize that I’m the one that has crossed the line. Of course, there wouldn’t be photos allowed at The Polo Bar. Not because the restaurant has anything to hide, but because the mere sight of a cell phone might upset the meticulous atmosphere at Ralph Lauren’s time warp in the form of a Fifth Avenue dining room.

“Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”

It’s been forty-five years since Joni Mitchell first sang that fateful line on her hit track Big Yellow Taxi, but her words continue to ring out to this day. That line has been repeated, and repeated, and repeated over the years but for as straightforward as her sentiment may be, we’re still struggling to grasp the song’s message. This is especially true here in New York, where more and more so-called institutions of the city seem to be disappearing by the day. And no industry seems to be both more at risk, and more revered than restaurants.

At this point, it seems as if any restaurant that’s been around for more than five years, doesn’t serve some blogger approved, Instagram-ready menu of avant garde delicacies, and/or hasn’t found their niche food fad yet, is endanger of shuttering at a moments notice. And in turn, each “we’re closing” announcement is met by a chorus of complaints, and groans, and claims that New York is over. Inevitably though a week passes, and we all forget about it. We bounce back to whatever “hot new restaurant” is peaking that week, or to our favorite dollar slice spot, depending on our particular palette preferences. And honestly, when was the last time any of us ate at Soup Burg, or Cafe Edison, or El Greco or Odessa?

On a recent episode of Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee, Jerry Seinfeld rolled around Montauk while interviewing Jimmy Fallon. The episode featured a whole lot of star power for one small web short (not to mention one very tiny car) but both celebrities still managed to get upstaged by the unlikeliest of cameos – a boat. But, not just any boat, a thirteen foot Boston Whaler which Seinfeld proudly called, “the greatest boat in the world.” For as hyperbolic as that may sound, Seinfeld’s claim is one-upped by an even bolder statement from the Boston Whaler company itself – that their boats are “unsinkable legends.”

In case you didn’t already have enough international magazines to sift through, we’d like to introduce you to Adam: La Revue de l’Homme. Normally we wouldn’t say “introduce” in reference to a magazine that hasn’t put out an issue in over forty years, but we feel pretty confident in assuming that none of you have ever heard of Adam before. And if you have, well congratulations on an advanced knowledge of obscure French menswear magazines. Adam was founded by Edmond Dubois in 1925 and was published bimonthly until 1973. Today Adam is best known for its covers, many of which featured drawings by the famous Frano-Italian painter René Gruau, who worked with several high-fashion magazines of the time. Like the widely circulated Apparel Arts drawings, Adam’s covers provide a snapshot (albeit a far more-lighthearted one) of how men approached clothing across the twentieth century.

To find one of the rarest fabrics in the world you don’t travel to the Italian countryside, or the Scottish Isles, rather you journey seven hours outside of Tokyo, to the Wakayama Prefecture. There on the southeastern coast of Japan you’ll find the Loopwheeler factory, one of the last bastions of Wakayama’s once robust manufacturing industry. Along with Merz B. Schwanen in the Swabian Mountains of Germany, Loopwheeler is one of the only remaining two factories producing authentic loopwheel terry cloth in the world.

I tend to believe that you can’t fully know a person until you meet their friends. The company we choose to keep says a lot, often more than we ever can individually, about who we are as people. On a still, late July evening I found myself considering this as I glanced around Nepenthes, Engineered Garments pseudo-flagship store in Manhattan’s Garment District. The store, despite it’s out of the way location, was teeming with people. A cheery swirl of English and Japanese chatter overpowered the shop’s post-punk soundtrack as pockets of friends conversed beside the racks.

Standing on the second story loft looking down at the gleeful guests below, I realized that this was what has made Engineered Garments such a crucial brand, not only for menswear in America at large, but for me as an individual. The event was organized to celebrate the debut of Engineered Garments Spring/Summer ’15 collection, and fifteen years after the brand’s founding, people of all backgrounds, of all styles, of all occupations, were still gleefully gravitating toward the brand.